Hammer Time
by theicemenace
Summary: Tags to Thor and Avengers. Just a couple of missing scenes.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **This fic came about because of a piece of art found on Pinterest. There should be only two chapters. At the end of the second chapter, I'll describe the art.

FYI - ladygris did the Beta.

Namaste,

~Sandy

**Avengers**

**Hammer Time**

**Chapter 1**

**New Mexico Desert**

"You better call it Coulson, 'cause I'm starting to root for this guy." From his high perch, SHIELD Agent Clint Barton ignored the rain pelting him and kept his eyes focused on the civilian's shadow as he systematically took out every agent they sent after him. As he neared the hammer imbedded in desert sand, the last agent standing, a giant hulk of a man stepped in front of their guest and engaged. The two men fell through the side of the tunnel and the fight continued on the muddy slope until both were so covered in the gooey mess it was difficult to tell them apart. But Clint wasn't your average agent. He also hadn't earned the name Hawkeye for nothing. He could see what most people couldn't. The tip of his arrow tracked the big man's moments as he slid down the hill, still trying to get to the hammer. "Last chance, sir."

"Wait. I wanna see this." Coulson's voice said into his good ear, the one he'd had surgery on just a couple of weeks ago. The damage to Clint's hearing had gotten to the point where hearing aids no longer helped as well as they had in the past. The time had finally come to do something about it. With advances in medical technology, SHIELD surgeons had corrected the damage to his dominant left ear. In a couple of weeks, the right ear would be done and he'd hear normally again.

Their guest stood over the hammer, a triumphant smile coming over his face. He reached down, grasped the handle and pulled, but it didn't come free. Using both hands, he tried again, his already oversized muscles bulging with the effort. When he finally accepted that he wouldn't be able to lift the hammer, he fell to his knees and just let the rain come.

"_Alright. Show's over._"

Clint shoved the arrow back into the quiver and collapsed the bow as he was being lowered to the ground. He vaulted over the side and jogged back into the portable armory just as the rain stopped. "Acknowledged. So what're we gonna do with it?"

"_The hammer? Not much we __can__ do. None of us, not even that guy, can lift it._"

One side of Clint's mouth smiled. "We could advertise it as a historical landmark, run tours and anyone who buys the premium ticket gets a chance to try to pick it up. The person who can pick it up gets hired to guard the thing and we can get back to the city, plus we make a little cash on the side."

"_Tax free? The IRS wouldn't like that._"

"Well, the IRS can go ***** itself." Clint waited for Coulson to reprimand him once again for his use of profanity, but the line had gone dead. He shed his soaked jacket and shook his head to remove the excess water. When Coulson didn't show himself, Clint went looking, finding him interrogating the prisoner. The man had been cleaned up before being locked in the cell.

"It's not easy to do what you did. You made my men-some of the most highly trained professionals in the world-look like a bunch of minimum-wage mall cops. In my experience, it takes someone who's received similar training to do what you did to them. Why don't you tell me where you received that training? Afghanistan? Chechnya? No, you strike me more as the soldier of fortune type. Who are you?"

From here, Clint could see that the other man was demoralized by the fact that he hadn't been able to lift the hammer. Clint caught Coulson's eye, lifting his chin as a signal that they needed to talk. Excusing himself, Coulson came out and the two men spoke briefly. Over the tech's shoulder, Clint could see the prisoner apparently talking to himself. Coulson returned to the interrogation room and a few minutes later an older man with gray and blonde hair showed up claiming that their prisoner was someone by the name of Dr. Donald Blake, an M.D. who had switched to astrophysics. Clint thought it a little too convenient. Coulson did too because he sent a two-man detail to keep an eye on them.

Together, the agents watched Selvig lead "Donald" away with the detail then followed at a discreet distance. Clint crossed his arms and Coulson shoved his hands into his pockets. "I have to report to the director. You're in charge, Agent Barton."

There was a pause, then, "I'm gonna change first."

"Why?"

Clint paused again. "I'm all wet. Don't wanna catch a cold."

Another pause, longer this time. "Okay. Stay sharp."

Clint's "Yes, sir" went unheard because Coulson had already gone. Taking a deep breath of the rain cleansed air, Clint jogged to the temporary living quarters to get out of his wet clothes.

~~O~~

The cloud cover broke around midnight and the stars started to show themselves once more. Not that Clint needed much light to see even without the infrared glasses. It just made things easier.

With the prisoner gone and the locals finally asleep or more likely passed out, Clint and his people could relax just a little. God help them if they did, though, or Clint would be all over them like ants on a Twinkie. Just because something _looked_ harmless, didn't mean it was. Like that ****ing hammer. What the hell was that all about anyway? Of all the people who had tried to pick the thing up, it stood to reason that at least one of them would have what it took to lift it, but no one had.

_Guess we'll just have to wait for Captain Friggin' America then_, Clint thought while rolling his eyes. What was it about Steve Rogers that Coulson couldn't stop talking about him? Every time he bought another trading card, the senior agent had to show it to everyone he knew. Okay, to be fair, Clint had tracked down a couple and gave them his friend in the Secret Santa exchange. Clint had gotten Hill, and through some fancy computer work, had found out that Natasha had gotten Coulson. He'd begged and pleaded with Natasha to trade. She'd agreed, only after exacting her pound of flesh in the form of a weekend at her favorite spa for the two of them. Oh, and to make it worse, he wasn't allowed to utter one word of protest or make jokes. _Well, there go all my openers_.

Another yawn pushed its way out, so to keep from falling asleep standing up, Clint tapped his headset. "Barton to Comm-sat. I'm gonna do a walk-through. Let me know when the cameras around the artifact are back up."

"Roger that. Comm-sat out."

The first place Clint checked out was the power generation tent. Only a few techs wandered around checking displays and making notations in their tablets. _Boring!_ He climbed the ladder into the tunnel, gratified that the repairs had been completed to the walls. _Oh, boy,_ he thought sarcastically, n_ow no one can look in. Not that there's anyone but us monkeys this far out_.

After checking the outlying tunnels, Clint slowly worked his way closer to the center until all that was left was the room where the hammer lay encased in who knew what. None of their tools or equipment made the slightest mark. And forget about moving it. No one left on the base now had the moral integrity to be able to lift it, provided the story was true, which Clint doubted. It was a myth. A fairytale told to children at bedtime.

Coulson had told him the Nordic legend behind Thor's Hammer, that only those of sound moral character and integrity may lift Mjölnir. The hammer can summon the elements wind, rain, thunder, and lightning for the wielder to use at their discretion. There had been some other crap about time travel, but Clint had stopped listening.

Clint chuckled to himself at the portentous tone Coulson had used, as if _he_ would be the one to make decisions on who was or wasn't worthy to use the hammer.

Eventually, Clint found himself looking down at the artifact from the top of the stairs. The panel that had been torn when the prisoner and Agent Robinson fell through it had been repaired. The ground around the hammer was still wet though no longer muddy.

Clint went down the stairs to stare at it for a while then walked around and around, looking at it from every angle. He stepped into the circular hole that had been dug, squatting to look at it up close. With one finger, he reached out to touch the handle, drawing back quickly. Nothing happened so he touched it again, longer this time, then rubbed the finger with his thumb and sniffed. It smelled like wet leather.

That should've been the end of it, but the longer he looked at the thing, the more his curiosity grew. He poked his finger into the ground around it starting two feet away and moving toward it. The sand was soft until he reached the base of the pillar.

Something about the artifact drew him to swipe two fingers down the handle, the head and the strap. Again, there was no reaction. It didn't move, lightning didn't come down from the sky to strike him dead, and Coulson didn't suddenly appear to give him hell.

Getting to his feet, Clint fully intended to leave the area, to finish his walk-through, but he didn't. He just continued to stare at the artifact with his arms crossed as he walked around it one more time. Hundreds, maybe even thousands, of people had tried to pick it up, including the prisoner who claimed he was Thor, the god of Thunder, and none had been able to. _What chance do __I__ have of picking it up?_

And as it always did, his shoulder angel and devil snickered at him for even thinking it might be a possibility. _Not good enough for heaven and not bad enough for hell. Great. If I was music, I'd be Barry Manilow._

So, just to prove to himself that he couldn't do it, Clint glanced over his shoulder to verify that he was alone then wrapped his left hand around the handle, took a quick breath and pulled.

It came free from the pillar making him stumble backwards. He looked from the hammer in his hand to the pillar and back then muttered a horrified "Oh, ****!" and promptly dropped it again, staggering back a step and staring at the thing as if it would come to life and bite him.

"O-oh, ****!" The hammer lay on the wet ground looking harmless while at the same time scaring Clint more than anything he'd ever seen or done in his entire life. Again, Clint glanced over his shoulder, nervously this time, rubbing a hand down his face. "Okay. It's, uh, it's-it's all good. I'll, uh, just pick it up and put it back and no one will know. Yeah. That's it. Just…" he motioned at it with his left hand, "…pick it up."

But Clint couldn't make himself touch it. He also couldn't leave it where it was or Coulson would know something was up. "C'mon, Barton. You can _do_ this. Just pick the ****ing thing up and put it back before someone finds out and it ruins your rep as a badass."

Taking a deep breath, Clint wrapped both hands around the handle and lifted it up to eye level. He let go with his right hand, feeling more at ease the longer he held it until it seemed to weigh nothing at all.

With a grin, he recalled the old Thor cartoons from when he was a kid. Standing with his feet shoulder width apart, he raised the hammer in the air. A bolt of lightning shot from the head into the sky through the hole in the ceiling, the flash so bright it left an afterimage on Clint's retinas. With nothing to stop it, the lightning swirled around the sky, arced over and struck the nearest power source: the SHIELD generators. A strong initial explosion was followed by several smaller ones in rapid succession plunging the entire complex into darkness.

Clint's elation quickly deflated. Switching on the Maglite, he replaced the hammer on the pillar, almost jumping when a voice accompanied by mild static came over the back-up radio he carried.

"_Morris to Agent Barton_."

"Barton. Go ahead."

"_Sir, the generators are down. We've lost all power to the base._"

He cleared his throat and pressed the talk button, using his most acerbic tone, "Oh, _really?_ What was your first _clue_, Morris?"

"_Sorry, sir. Just following orders._"

Though he felt guilty for his part in the incident, duty obligated him to respond as expected. "Well, don't just _sit_ there, Morris. Get someone on it. I want a report ASAP."

"_Yes, sir._"

Clint returned the radio to the clip on his belt, breathing a sigh of relief. Once again, he shined the Maglite on the hammer. Bending over, he whispered, "Let's keep this between you 'n me, okay?"

Naturally, the artifact didn't respond. Clint nodded, gave it a salute and hastily left the area when he heard a pair of guards coming. At the junction, he made an about face as if he were coming from a totally different direction. Aiming a thumb in the direction of the hammer, Clint ordered, "Go check the artifact then walk the perimeter."

The men nodded and moved off. Confident that he hadn't been made, Clint strode quickly down the tunnel toward the power generation tent, dropping his "resting face" into place just before he called out for the man in charge.

**TBC**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** Oops! Forgot to described the art that inspired this fic.

It's a behind-the-scenes pic of Renner holding the hammer on which someone added text: Hey Loki! Heeey Loki! *singing* I can hold the Mjölnir and you can't! I can hold the Mjölnir and you can't!

LOL

**Avengers**

**Hammer Time**

**Chapter 2**

**One Year Later**

**The Chitauri Invasion**

From his perch on the roof of the office building, Hawkeye watched a squad of Chitauri soldiers repeatedly fire on Iron Man and there was nothing _he_ could do to help. His eyes scanned the skies, but everyone else was busy. Before he could formulate a plan to aid his teammate, he sensed someone behind him. He turned, nocked an arrow and fired all in one motion. The Chitauri went down without getting off a shot. Another climbed over the parapet, but when Hawkeye reached for an arrow, the quiver was empty. Using his bow, he wacked the alien on the side of his head, coming around and getting him on the other side. The alien stumbled backward and Hawkeye kicked him over the side.

He spun around at the sound of a squad of sleds swooping out of the sky toward his position. With no way off the roof except the same way the Chitauri had gone, Hawkeye's options were limited. However, he did have one last trick up his sleeve.

He pulled the arrow from the dead Chitauri, stuck it in his quiver and hit the activator. The caddy containing his special tips turned automatically attaching his final arrowhead to the shaft of the arrow. As the squad began firing on his position, he ran to the parapet, launched himself into the air, turning and firing as he fell. The grappling hook grabbed hold of the side of the building letting out cable and carrying him away from the destruction of his former haven. Using his legs to gain momentum, he swung back toward the building, knees pulled up to his chest and kicking out at the glass shattering it. He released the cable and his momentum carried him into the building where he rolled over and over, coming to a stop lying on his quiver. The pain in his back was intense, but he couldn't spare the time to worry about it now that they were so close to winning.

Hawkeye gained his feet and took off for the stairs. Around the twentieth floor, his way was blocked to the point that he couldn't continue. Using his knife, he pried open the door and darted into the destroyed office, his eyes searching for another way out.

Through the broken windows, Hawkeye saw a double squad converging on Hulk on the roof of another building. The angry beast threw his head back and roared just as Thor flew to his rescue. An opportunity for redemption presented itself and Hawkeye grabbed onto it with both hands. A lone Chitauri soldier approached with his staff weapon out, flying a little too close to the building.

_If Nat can do it, so can I._

Holding onto the frame of the broken window, Hawkeye calculated the distance and rate of travel in his head. Counting to three, he jumped, landing on the back of the sled with a jarring impact. Already overtaxed muscles screamed, but he refused to give up. He took out his knife, clenched it in his teeth and slowly pulled himself forward. When he was close enough, he jumped on the pilot's back, took the knife from his mouth and used it to stab the alien in the back of the neck. At first all it did was scream in pain. Then, Hawkeye twisted, pulled the knife out and shoved it in again in a different place.

The alien slumped as Hawkeye jumped out of the way. He grabbed the side of its neck and shoved it over the side leaving the controls free. He'd watched the others, taking in everything just as Cap had told him to filing some of it away for later. _Now_ was that ephemeral later. With his hands on the controls, he steered the sled in a big loop coming around to where Thor was trying to get to the Hulk and fighting off at least a dozen Chitauri intent on killing him.

Using his hammer, Thor sent a bolt of lightning into the sky. It arced over and sheared off a huge chunk of the building. Gravity took over and it rained down on top of Thor. Hawkeye could see the demi-god was still alive, but trapped. "****!"

Aiming for Thor's position, Hawkeye again did quick calculations in his head then said, "Screw it!" He made a back flip off the sled, hitting the roof with both feet, rotating his body-weight forward, moving into a diagonal roll redirecting the energy so that he didn't get hurt, immediately regaining his feet. Running to Thor, he dropped to one knee beside him. "You okay?"

"I am uninjured, but it will take some time to free myself from these stones. I am afraid that I will not be able to rescue Banner as planned." Bright bolts of energy hit all around them forcing Hawkeye to duck to the side. They saw another squad come around the corner to join the one already firing on their position. "You are in danger, Friend Hawkeye. Go!"

"I can't leave you here. They'll kill you." Thor tried to move his arms into position so he could lift the chunks of concrete pinning him down. They moved, but not enough for him to get free. Hawkeye got to his feet, frantically searching for a solution, a way for both men to make it out alive and still rescue Banner. "Where's your hammer?"

"I know not." He tried to summon Mjölnir, but his position prevented him from doing so. "You must leave me. There is no need for both of us die. Go now!"

"**** that! We _live_ together or we _die_ together. Me? I'm goin' for door number one." The incident in New Mexico a year earlier came back to Hawkeye lighting up like a beacon in his mind. If what happened with the hammer then was a one-off, a fluke, then Thor was right. They were both dead. If it wasn't… To Thor, he said, "I got an idea. Hang tight."

As he'd seen the Asgardian do, he held out his hand, mentally summoning the hammer. A smaller pile of concrete and glass shifted in response. Grinning, Hawkeye closed his eyes and concentrated harder, directing every ounce of will he had into calling Mjölnir. The debris shifted again then the hammer burst from its confines, flying toward him at a high rate of speed and suddenly, it was in his hand. He gasped and a rush of adrenaline swept through him chasing all the hurts and soreness from his human body. The feeling was more than simply pleasurable. It was orgasmic!

Clenching his jaw, Hawkeye stood with his feet shoulder width apart and raised the hammer toward the sky. Bolts of lightning shot from the hammer arcing toward the Chitauri still firing on them. Inhuman screeching filled the air as the aliens were electrocuted. With the pilots dead, the sleds lost control slamming into the sides of buildings and falling to the ground, the explosions making their refuge feel as if the entire world were being shaken to its core. Another squad replaced the one Hawkeye had just dispatched and the archer took them out as well.

More Chitauri scaled the outside of the building and climbed over the parapet. Hawkeye yelled, "Hammer Time!" and with steely determination, ran toward them swinging the hammer and sending them flying through the air one at a time. Some were dead when they hit the ground a hundred feet below. Others died instantly, and the rest were hit by their compatriots still engaged in battle with the humans. "Hah! Take _that_, you alien sonsof*******!"

Power like he'd never felt before surged through Hawkeye, and he _liked_ it! His breathing sped up, his pulse leaping in response to the greatly increased amount of oxygen being absorbed by his lungs where it was then distributed to all of his organs, especially his brain. He felt invincible, as though he could rule the world. No. Change that. With a weapon like Mjölnir he could do _anything!_ ****! With _this_ much power, he could rule the _universe!_

Then, it all came crashing down around his ears. That wasn't the sort of person he was. Maybe at one time he might've actually been tempted to use the force of Mjölnir for immoral purposes. But that wasn't him, in spite of all the things Loki had made him do. If, deep down inside where only God, and apparently Mjölnir, could see, he was an immoral lout, then he'd never have been able to pick it in the first place. He and Thor would now be smears of blood on a rooftop because he doubted even the resilient Asgardian would've been able to withstand the concentrated fire from so many Chitauri energy weapons. Looking down at Mjölnir, Hawkeye took one last deep breath and hoped that returning it to its rightful owner wouldn't take away the healing it had done to his body because he really couldn't deal with the pain just now. Not ever, but he'd settle for here and now.

Hawkeye turned to see Thor watching him with an unreadable expression. The Asgardian took a deep breath. "You felt it, did you not? The might of Mjölnir. The feeling of invincibility?"

Ignoring Thor's question, Hawkeye said, "Cover your face." The Asgardian did so and Hawkeye once again summoned the power of the hammer, using it to destroy the debris holding Thor captive.

He rushed to Thor's side, extending a hand to help him up. The big man looked from Hawkeye to the hammer and back. "How were you able to summon Mjölnir and wield its power, my friend?"

Hawkeye held the hammer up with a sheepish grin. "Dunno. Must have the right stuff." He held out Mjölnir waiting for Thor to take it. Thor searched Hawkeye's features, probably trying to decide if he still worked for Loki. To prove himself free of Loki's influence, Hawkeye nodded. "Take it, Thor, and let's get the hell outta Dodge before those ass***** send reinforcements."

Thor slipped his hand through the strap, holding onto the handle and giving the hammer intense scrutiny. "I've not heard that Mjölnir could have more than one master."

Clint's grin turned into an ironic smile. "To tell the truth, I think _it's_ the one in charge. I mean, doesn't, uh, Mee-ol-in-eer decide who's worthy and who's SOL?"

Thor snorted at Hawkeye's attempt to say the hammer's name while at the same time showing confusion. "I do not understand."

Chucking, Hawkeye clapped Thor on the shoulder. "Never mind. And let's just keep this between us. Deal?"

For some reason, Thor gave him an odd look then he smiled and slapped Hawkeye on the back almost dislocating his shoulder. "Deal, Friend Hawkeye. Now let us continue the battle for Midgard."

"Cool! How about a ride?"

"Where would you have me take you?"

Shrugging casually, Hawkeye gave it a little thought, but not much. "Wherever I'm needed most. Someplace with lots of fighting going on."

Thor put one of his massive arms around Hawkeye's waist, swinging Mjölnir in a circle. "As you wish."

~~O~~

The fight raged on until Iron Man shoved a nuke up the Chitauri's ass.

Then, it was now or never. Black Widow used Loki's spear to shut down the portal to the other realm. Cut off from their energy source, the remaining Chitauri fell to the ground and died.

In time, the Avengers regrouped at Stark's penthouse, and when Loki regained consciousness, they were there to greet him. Beaten and bleeding from a number of cuts on his face and body, Loki crawled out of the hole where the Hulk had left him, taking in the faces of those who'd defeated him. With a groan, he said, "If it's all the same to you, I'll have that drink now."

The cell that had been ejected with Thor inside was replaced with another even stronger. Loki was returned to the helicarrier and locked inside it with guards to watch him around the clock until such time as the powers that be decided what to with him. Fury then put guards on the guards and still more guards to guard the guards, just in case.

At Stark's urging, the Avengers found themselves at a shawarma joint having convinced the owners to serve them. And because they'd had a front row seat where they could see first-hand how the Avengers had saved Earth, the owners were more than happy to oblige.

Sitting across from each other, Hawkeye and Thor shared a secret smile. Hawkeye raised his cup in salute. Thor did so as well, and the men drank to a job well done.

**The End**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: **Many thanks to ladygris and Lady Pandora for the Beta work. Enjoy!

Namaste,

Sunny

**Avengers**

**Hammer Time**

**Chapter 3**

**Avenger HQ**

**Stark Tower**

**Manhattan**

**The After Party**

Most of the party guests were gone. Only the Avengers, official and otherwise, had stayed behind to talk, get drunk, and poke fun at those who left early and sober. Sitting on the floor next to Hill, Clint twirled a pair of drumsticks he started carrying around to practice whenever he had a few minutes; he'd recently started teaching Cooper to play the drums. He was the first to say he shouldn't be drinking so soon after being shot, but dammit, he wanted a beer. Several, in fact. And he deserved it. However, he'd overdone it and now he had the most delightful buzz going on. Literally. The inside of this head sounded like a swarm of bees had gotten trapped.

Somehow, they got on the subject of Thor's hammer and the myth of worthiness. Thor and Clint had kept the fact that Clint had been able to lift Mjölnir, a secret for years, particularly as it had been twice. Well, the best defense and all that crap…

Clint laughed, lowering his voice to a deep register. "'Whosoever be he worthy shall have the power.' Whatever, man. It's a trick."

The Asgardian flashed him a significant glance. "It is more than that, my friend."

"It's a trick!" Clint mentally rolled his eyes at his tone, thinking maybe he was protesting too much, but no one, not even Nat, seemed to notice.

Thor waved a hand at the hammer with exaggerate confidence. "Please, be my guest."

"Really?" From the look Thor gave him, they were both thinking about the invasion and the rooftop.

"Yeah."

Stark, never one to let the opportunity to make a smartass remark pass, said, "You've had a rough day, so we won't hold it against you if you can't get it up, Barton."

The rest of the team engaged in catcalls and friendly insults-including Nat-as Clint came around the table, all the while wondering two things. One: Could he still lift Mjölnir? And two: How would he fake _not_ picking it up if he was still able to do so? He could say he changed his mind, but that would bring on a new round of insults at the expense of his dignity.

Tossing the drumsticks on the table, Clint walked over to the hammer and wrapped his left hand around the handle, feeling it move. Not much, but enough. _You have an audience, Barton. Make it good_.

Flexing the muscles of his left arm, Clint grunted as if straining to lift the hammer. After a few of those, he gave up, returning to the sofa near Hill, joining in the on the fun for the next person.

When Stark left to get the arm of his suit, Clint caught Thor's eye and winked. His secret was safe, and always would be. One day soon, he may even trust the Asgardian with his biggest and most well-kept secret. Maybe. Some day.

**The End**


End file.
